“Villanelle”, Op. 7, No. 1 from Les nuits d'été 
Hector Berlioz 
Text by Théophile Gautier

Quand viendra la saison nouvelle, 
Quand auront disparu les froids, 
Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle, 
Pour cueillir le muguet aux bois; 
Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles 
Que l’on voit au matin trembler, 
Nous irons écouter les merles 
Siffler! 

Le printemps est venu, ma belle; 
C’est le mois des amants béni, 
Et l’oiseau, satinant son aile, 
Dit ses vers au rebord du nid. 
Oh! viens donc sur ce banc de mousse, 
Pour parler de nos beaux amours, 
Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce: 
Toujours! 

Loin, bien loin, égarant nos courses, 
Faisons fuir le lapin caché, 
Et le daim au miroir des sources 
Admirant son grand bois penché; 
Puis, chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises, 
En paniers enlaçant nos doigts, 
Revenons rapportant des fraises 
Des bois!

When the new season comes, 
When the cold has gone, 
We two will go, my sweet, 
To gather lilies-of-the-valley in the woods; 
Scattering as we tread the pearls of dew 
We see quivering each morn, 
We’ll go and hear the blackbirds 
Sing! 

Spring has come, my sweet; 
It is the season lovers bless, 
And the birds, preening their wings, 
Sing songs from the edge of their nests. 
Ah! Come, then, to this mossy bank 
To talk of our beautiful love, 
And tell me in your gentle voice: 
Forever! 

Far, far away we’ll stray from our path, 
Startling the rabbit from his hiding-place 
And the deer reflected in the spring, 
Admiring his great lowered antlers; 
Then home we’ll go, serene and at ease, 
And entwining our fingers basket-like, 
We’ll bring back home wild 
Strawberries! 

La lune blanche 
Luit dans les bois; 
De chaque branche 
Part une voix
Sous la ramée... 

Ô bien aimée. 
 
L'étang reflète, 
Profond miroir, 
La silhouette 
Du saule noir 
Où le vent pleure... 
 
Rêvons, c'est l'heure. 
 
Un vaste et tendre 
Apaisement 
Semble descendre 
Du firmament 
Que l'astre irise... 
 
C'est l'heure exquise. 

The white moon 
Gleams in the woods; 
From every branch 
There comes a voice 
Beneath the boughs... 
 
O my beloved. 
 
The pool reflects, 
Deep mirror, 
The silhouette 
Of the black willow 
Where the wind is weeping... 
 
Let us dream, it is the hour. 
 
A vast and tender 
Consolation 
Seems to fall 
From the sky 
Made lustrous by the stars…. 

It is the exquisite hour.

“Ouvre ton coeur"
Georges Bizet
Text by Louis Delâtre

La marguerite a fermé sa corolle, 
L’ombre a fermé les yeux du jour. 
Belle, me tiendras-tu parole? 
Ouvre ton cœur à mon amour. 

Ouvre ton cœur, ô jeune ange, à ma flamme, 
Qu’un rêve charme ton sommeil. 
Je veux reprendre mon âme, 
Comme une fleur s’ouvre au soleil!

"Open your heart"
Translation by Richard Stokes (from A French Song Companion)

The daisy has closed its petals, 
darkness has closed the eyes of day, 
will you, fair one, be true to your word? 
Open your heart to my love. 

Open your heart to my ardour, young angel, 
that a dream may charm your sleep – 
I wish to recover my soul, 
as a flower unfolds to the sun!

Five Elizabethan Songs
Ivor Gurney
Text by Shakespeare

4. “Sleep” 
 
Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving 
Lock me in delight awhile; 
Let some pleasing dreams beguile 
All my fancies; that from thence 
I may feel an influence 
All my powers of care bereaving. 
 
Though but a shadow, but a sliding, 
Let me know some little joy! 
We that suffer long annoy 
Are contented with a thought 
Through an idle fancy wrought: 
O let my joys have some abiding!

1. “Orpheus”

Orpheus with his lute made trees, 
And the mountain-tops that freeze, 
Bow themselves, when he did sing:

To his music, plants and flowers 
Ever [sprung]1; as sun and showers 
There had made a lasting spring.

Everything that heard him play, 
Even the billows of the sea, 
Hung their heads, and then lay by.

In sweet music is such art: 
Killing care and grief of heart 
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.

Let us Garlands Bring, Op. 18
Gerald Finzi 
Text by Shakespeare

1. “Come away, come away, death”

Come away, come away, death, 
And in sad cypress let me be laid; 
Fly away, fly away, breath; 
I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 
O prepare it! 
My part of death, no one so true 
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet, 
On my black coffin let there be strown; 
Not a friend, not a friend greet 
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: 
A thousand, thousand sighs to save, 
Lay me, O where 
Sad true lover never find my grave, 
To weep there!

2. “Who is Silvia?”

Who is Silvia? what is she, 
That all our swains commend her? 
Holy, fair and wise is she; 
The heavens such grace did lend her, 
That she might admiréd be.

Is she kind as she is fair? 
For beauty lives with kindness. 
Love doth to her eyes repair, 
To help him of his blindness, 
And, being helped, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia, let us sing, 
That Silvia is excelling; 
She excels each mortal thing 
Upon the dull earth dwelling; 
To her let us garlands bring.

Siete Canciones Populares Españolas 
Manuel de Falla 
Text by Gregorio Martinez Sierra

1. “El paño moruno” 
 
Al paño fino, en la tienda, 
Una mancha le cayó. 
Por menos precio se vende, 
Porque perdió su valor. 
Ay!

Seven Popular Spanish Songs

1. "The delicate fabric"


On the delicate fabric in the shop 
There fell a stain. 
It sells for less, 
For it has lost its value. 
Ay!

“Despedida” 
María Grever

Una triste sonrisa tu labio dibujó 
Una indiscreta lágima de mis ojos cayó. 
Tu mano entre la mía, enlazadas las dos, 
Detener pretendía nuestra separación 
Y sin decirnos nada, nos dijimos adiós. 
 
Hoy en mi curel soledad fatal, 
Viene tu imagen a mi…sensual; 
Tengo delirio por verte, 
Siento temor de perderte. 
Vuelve otra vez a mi lado, no te alejas de mí. 
Di que no has olvidado el amor que te dí.

"Farewell"


A sad smile your lips drew, 
An indiscreet tear fell from my eyes. 
Your hand in mine, the two interlaces, 
Hoped to stop our separation, 
And, saying nothing, we said goodbye.


Today in my cruel solitude 
Comes your image to me, sensual. 
I am delirious to see you, 
I am afraid to lose you.
Come again to my side, stay close to me 
Say you have not forgotten the love I gave.

"Nani, nani"
Traditional Ladino lullaby 
arr. Manuel Garcia Morante (b. 1937)

Nani nani quere el hijo 
El hijo de la madre 
De chico se haga grande 
Ay durmite mi alma, mi vida 
Que tue padre viene 
Con mucha alegría  

Ay avrimex la puerta 
Avrimex mi dama 
Que vengo muy cansado 
De arar las huertas.  

The son wants to sleep 
The mother’s son 
May he grow to be big 
Sleep, my soul, my life 
That your father is coming  
With much happiness.  

Open the door for me 
Open up for me, my lady 
For I come very tired 
From plowing the fields.

Siete Canciones Populares Españolas 
Manuel de Falla 
Spanish source Anon. 

5. “Nana”

Duérmete, niño, duerme 
Duerme, mi alma. 
Duérmete, lucerito 
De la mañana.

Nanita, nana 
Duérmete, lucerito 
De la mañana.

4. “Jota” 
Spanish source Anon.

Dicen que no nos queremos 
Porque no nos ven hablar. 
A tu corazón y al mio 
Se lo pueden preguntar. 
 
Ya me despido de ti, 
de tu casa y tu Ventana 
Y aunque no quiera tu madre 
Adios, niña, hasta mañana

Seven Popular Spanish Songs
Translation by Jacqueline Cockburn


5. "Nana"

Sleep, Little one, sleep, 
Sleep, my soul. 
Sleep, my little 
Morning star.

Lulla-lullaby 
Sleep, my little 
Morning star.

4. "Jota"
Translation by Jacqueline Cockburn

They say we’re not in love 
Since they never see us talk. 
Let them ask 
Your heart and mine  

I must leave you now, 
Your house and your window. 
And though your mother disapproves, 
Goodbye, sweet love, until tomorrow.

Die Lorelei, S. 273 
Franz Liszt 
Text by Heinrich Heine

Ich weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten, 
Dass ich so traurig bin; 
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten, 
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn. 
Die Luft ist kühl, und es dunkelt, 
Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein; 
Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt 
Im Abendsonnenschein. 
Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet 
Dort oben wunderbar, 
Ihr goldenes Geschmeide blitzet, Sie kämmt ihr goldenes Haar.
Sie kämmt es mit goldenem Kamme 
Und singt ein Lied dabei; 
Das hat eine wundersame, 
Gewaltige Melodei. 
Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe 
Ergreift es mit wildem Weh; 
Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe, 
Er schat nur hinauf in die Höh. 
Ich glaube, die Welllen verschlingen 
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn; 
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen 
Die Lorelei getan.

The Lorelei
Translation licensed and provided by LyricFind

I don’t know what it may signify 
That I am so sad; 
There’s a tale from ancient times 
That I can’t get out of my mind.
The air is cool and the twilight is falling 
and the Rhine is flowing quietly by; 
the top of the mountain is glittering 
in the evening sun.
The loveliest maiden is sitting 
Up there, wondrous to tell. 
Her golden jewelry sparkles 
as she combs her golden hair
She combs it with a golden comb 
and sings a song as she does, 
A song with a peculiar, 
powerful melody.
It seizes upon the boatman in his small boat
With unrestrained woe;
He does not look below to the rocky shoals,
He only looks up at the heights.
If I'm not mistaken, the waters
Finally swallowed up fisher and boat;
And with her singing
The Lorelei did this.

Schwanengesang, D. 957
"Der Atlas"
Franz Schubert
Text by Heinrich Heine

Ich unglucksel'ger Atlas! eine Welt,
Die ganze Welt der Schmerzen muss ich tragen.
Ich Trage Unertragliches, und brechen
Will mir das Herz im Leibe.

Du stolzes Herz, du hast es ja gewollt!
Du wolltest glucklich sein, unendlich glucklich,
Oder unendlich elend, stolzes Herz,
Und jetzo bist du elend.

 "Atlas"
English translation © Richard Wigmore

I, unhappy Atlas, must bear a world, 
the whole world of sorrows. 
I bear the unbearable, and my heart 
would break within my body. 

Proud heart, you wished it so! 
You wished to be happy, endlessly happy, 
or endlessly wretched, proud heart! 
And now you are wretched! 

Von ewiger Liebe, Op. 43, No. 1 
Johannes Brahms 
Text by August Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben

Dunkel, wie dunkel in Wald und in Feld! 
Abend schon ist es, nun schweiget die Welt. 

Nirgend noch Licht und nirgend noch Rauch, 
Ja, und die Lerche sie schweiget nun auch. 

Kommt aus dem Dorfe der Bursche heraus, 
Gibt das Geleit der Geliebten nach Haus, 

Führt sie am Weidengebüsche vorbei, 
Redet so viel und so mancherlei: 

„Leidest du Schmach und betrübest du dich, 
Leidest du Schmach von andern um mich, 

Werde die Liebe getrennt so geschwind, 
Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind. 

Scheide mit Regen und scheide mit Wind, 
Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind.“ 

Spricht das Mägdelein, Mägdelein spricht: 
„Unsere Liebe sie trennet sich nicht! 

Fest ist der Stahl und das Eisen gar sehr, 
Unsere Liebe ist fester noch mehr. 

Eisen und Stahl, man schmiedet sie um, 
Unsere Liebe, wer wandelt sie um? 

Eisen und Stahl, sie können zergehn, 
Unsere Liebe muß ewig bestehn!“ 

Eternal Love 

English translation © Richard Stokes 

Dark, how dark in forest and field! 
Evening already, and the world is silent. 
 
Nowhere a light and nowhere smoke, 
And even the lark is silent now too. 
 
Out of the village there comes a lad, 
Escorting his sweetheart home, 
 
He leads her past the willow-copse, 
Talking so much and of so many things: 
 
‘If you suffer sorrow and suffer shame, 
Shame for what others think of me, 
 
Then let our love be severed as swiftly, 
As swiftly as once we two were plighted. 
 
Let us depart in rain and depart in wind, 
As swiftly as once we two were plighted.’ 
 
The girl speaks, the girl says: 
‘Our love cannot be severed! 
 
Steel is strong, and so is iron, 
Our love is even stronger still: 
 
Iron and steel can both be reforged, 
But our love, who shall change it? 
 
Iron and steel can be melted down, 
Our love must endure for ever!’ 

Six Romances 
Giuseppe Verdi 
Text by Jacopo Vittorelli 

“Non t'accostare all'urna”

Non t’accostare all’urna 
Che il cener moi rinserra ; 
questa pietosa terra 
E sacra al moi dolor.  

Odio gli affanni tuoi; 
ricuso i tuoi giancinti, 
Che giovano agli estinti 
Due lagrime, o due fior ? 

Empia! Dovevi allora 
Porgermi un fil d’aita, 
Quando traea la vita 
Nell’ansia e nei sospir.  

A che d’inutil piano 
Assordi la foresta ? 
Rispetta un’Ombra mesta, 
E lasciala dormir. 

"Do not approach the urn"

Do not approach the urn 
Which contains my ashes; 
This compassionate earth 
is sacred to my sorrow. 

I hate your concerns; 
I refuse your hyacinths; 
Of what use to the dead 
Are two tears, or two flowers?  

Cruel one! You should have 
Given me a thread of help, 
When my life was fading 
In fear and sighing.  

With what futile weeping 
Did you deafen the woods? 
Respect a sorrowful Shade, 
And let it sleep. 

"Malinconia, ninfa gentile"
Vincenzo Bellini 
Text by Ippolito Pindemonte 

Malinconia, Ninfa gentile, 
la vita mia consacro a te; 
i tuoi piaceri che tiene a vile 
ai piacer veri nato non e.  

Fonti e collini chiesi agli Dei; 
m’udiro alfine, pago io vivrò, 
né mai quel fonte co’ desir miei, 
né mai quel monte trapasserò.  

"Melancholy, gentle nymph"

Melancholy, gentle nymph, 
I devote my life to you. 
One who despises your pleasures 
Is not born to true pleasures.  

I asked the gods for fountains and hills; 
They heard me at last; I will live content 
Even though, with my desires, I never 
Go beyond that fountain and that mountain.

"L'alba separa dalla luce l'ombra" 
Francesco Paolo Tosti 
Text by Gabriele D’Annunzio

L'alba separa dalla luce l’ombra 
E la mia voluttà dal mio desire, 
O dolci stelle, e l’ora di morire. 
Un più divino amor dal ciel vi sgmobra.  

Pupille ardenti, o voi senza ritorno 
stelle triste, spegnetevi incorrotte! 
Morir debbo. Veder non voglio il giorno, 
Per amor del mio sogno e della notte…  

Chiudimi, o Notte, nel tuo sen materno, 
Mentre la terra pallida s’irrora… 
Ma che dal sangue mio nasca l’aurora 
E dal sogno moi breve il sole eterno!

"The dawn divides the darkness"

The dawn divides the darkness from light 
And my sensual pleasure from my desire. 
O sweet stars, it is the hour of death. 
A love more holy clears you from the skies.  

Gleaming eyes, o you who will not return, 
Sad stars, extinguish your uncorrupt light. 
I must die. I do not wish to see the day, 
For love of my dream and of the night.  

Envelop me, o Night, in your maternal breast 
While the pale earth bathes itself in dew… 
But that of my blood is born the dawn 
And of my brief dream the eternal sun! 

Cigánské Melodie, Op. 55 
Antonín Dvořák

1. “Má píseň zas” 
Text by Adolf Heyduk 
 
Má píseň zas mi láskou zní, 
když starý den umírá; 
a chudý mech kdy na šat svůj 
si tajně perle sbíra. 
 
Má píseň v kraj tak toužně zní, 
když světem noha bloudí; 
jen rodné pusty dálinou 
zpěv volně z ňader proudí. 
 
Má píseň hlučně láskou zní, 
když bouře běží plání; 
když těším se, že bídy prost 
dlí bratr v umírání.

4. “Když mne stará matka” 
Text by Adolf Heyduk

Když mne stará matka zpívat, zpívat učívala, 
podivno, že často, často slzívala. 
A ted' také pláčem snědé líce mučim, 
když cigánské děti hrát a zpívat učim!

7. “Dejte klec jestřábu” 
Text by Adolf Heyduk 

Dejte klec jestřábu ze zlata ryzého; 
nezmění on za ni hnízda trněného. 
Komoni bujnému, jenž se pustou žene, 
zřídka kdy připnete uzdy a třemene. 
A tak i cigánu příroda cos dala: 
k volnosti ho věčným poutem, k volnosti ho upoutala.

Gypsy Songs, Op. 55

1. “My song sounds of love” 
English translation © Richard Stokes 
 

My song resounds, a psalm of love, 
When day begins to fade, 
And when the moss and withered grass 
Secretly drink in pearls of dew. 
 
My song resounds full of wanderlust 
In the green of lofty forests, 
Only on the puszta’s wide plains 
Can I sing out happily. 
 
My song is also full of love, 
As storms rage across the heath; 
When the breast of my friend heaves, 
As he breathes his last!

4. “When my old mother” 
English translation © Anon. 
 
When my old mother taught me songs to sing, 
Tears would well strangely in her eyes. 
Now my brown cheeks are wet with tears, 
When I teach the children how to sing and play!

7. “As long as the falcon can fly” 
English translation © Richard Stokes

As long as the falcon can fly above the Tatra mountains, 
He will never exchange his rocky nest for a cage. 
If the wild foal can race across the heath, 
He’ll find no pleasure in bridle and reins. 
If, O gypsy, nature has given you something, 
She has given me freedom all my life.

“Make Our Garden Grow” 
from Candide 
Leonard Bernstein 
Text by Richard Wilbur

CANDIDE: 
You've been a fool 
And so have I, 
But come and be my wife. 
And let us try, 
Before we die, 
To make some sense of life. 
We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good 
We'll do the best we know. 
We'll build our house and chop our wood 
And make our garden grow... 
And make our garden grow. 
 
CUNEGONDE: 
I thought the world 
Was sugar cake 
For so our master said. 
But, now I'll teach 
My hands to bake 
Our loaf of daily bread.

CANDIDE AND CUNEGONDE: 
We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good 
We'll do the best we know. 
We'll build our house and chop our wood 
And make our garden grow... 
And make our garden grow.

CANDIDE, CUNEGONDE, MAXIMILLIAN, PAQUETTE, OLD LADY, DR. PANGLOSS:
Let dreamers dream
What worlds they please
those Edens can't be found.
The sweetest flowers,
The fairest trees
Are grown in solid ground.

We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good
We'll do the best we know.
We'll build our house and chop our wood
And make our garden grow.
And make our garden grow!